


the (mis)adventures of the hero monk and his… familiar

by doomcake



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, F/M, Gen, Hurt Inuyasha, Inuyasha Swears A Lot, Post-Canon, Sass, Shenanigans, caught in a rad bromance, hurt Miroku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28970058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomcake/pseuds/doomcake
Summary: “I’m not your fuckin' familiar,” Inuyasha snarls. "And stop flattering yourself."After Naraku is gone, Inuyasha and Miroku get their first extermination gig.(Takes place during Kagome's 3-year absence at the end of the series.)
Relationships: InuYasha & Miroku (InuYasha), Miroku/Sango (InuYasha)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	the (mis)adventures of the hero monk and his… familiar

“I’m not your fuckin’ familiar,” Inuyasha snarls. “And stop flattering yourself.”

Miroku adjusts the brim of his hat to block out the almost too-warm sun, using the cover to hide his grin in the shade. “Oh come now, you have to admit it’s catchy.”

His even gait jingles the rings on his shakujou melodically, and he tries hard not to break the rhythm with contained laughter at the growing irritation of his walking companion.

“No.” Inuyasha doesn’t break stride, but he stuffs his hands into his sleeves with an annoyed huff. He seems to pick up on the fact that he’s being teased, but still can’t quite help himself.

“How else are we going to sell our services to the superstitious folk in this area?” Miroku asks, somehow managing to sound both innocent and mildly offended at the same time. “We’re two specialists in exorcising wayward spirits and demons, and oh by the way, you should totally trust us because one of us is a demon?”

“Takes one to know one.” Inuyasha shrugs. “Besides, ‘m only _half_.”

“ _Only_ half, huh.” Miroku dodges a half-hearted swipe from Inuyasha’s claws.

Inuyasha growls. “Do you want me on this venture or not, _monk_.” It’s less a question and more a threat, his knuckles cracking to emphasize his point.

“My wife didn’t exactly give either of us a choice.”

Inuyasha’s face contorts on a journey of expressions, everywhere from obstinate, to nervous, to outright terrified, finally settling on resignation. He doesn’t respond.

Sango is a force to be reckoned with, after all. Even while pregnant.

They walk in companionable silence for a ways, along a quiet path that winds along rolling hillsides covered in rice paddies with the occasional worker off in the distance. They’re approaching the base of twin mountains, unlikely to reach it until late in the day at their current pace, but there isn’t any hurry. The rumors that prompted their journey hadn’t mentioned any impending danger from the demon infestation—just lots of annoyance and frustration from the village nearest it.

As the sun crests noon, the air grows thick with cloying humidity, threatening warm showers later in the day. Miroku hopes they’re at a sheltered resting spot before that happens.

“Do you think we can charge extra if it’s raining?” Miroku asks idly.

“Don’t be shady. We’re not setting out to be con artists.”

Miroku shrugs, and the shakujou jingles slightly off beat in response. “Not a con; it’s a fair question. I mean, who else would want to venture halfway up a mountain in the rain to deal with something that amounts to pests?”

“That’s if the rumors are true,” Inuyasha points out. “We’ve been in a lot of situations before where it was much worse than the rumors said.”

“We could scale our fee on difficulty of task, in that case.”

“ _Unbelievable_ ,” Inuyasha mutters quietly.

“Hey, we’re going to have to make a living at some point,” Miroku says. “Naraku’s gone; it’s not like we’re doing this for information anymore. We should figure these things out now if we are going to become business partners in this.”

Inuyasha looks like he wants to challenge the concept of a “business,” but something visibly turns over in his head and he seems to think better of it. With a tilt of his hat to hide another grin, Miroku muses on the fact that Inuyasha wears his heart on his sleeve. They’d stayed near or in Kaede’s village for over a year—Inuyasha refused to move anywhere that wasn’t near the Bone Eater’s Well, and Sango and Miroku opted to settle there to stay near friendly faces as they started their family. With all the fruitless waiting near the well, Inuyasha is absolutely as antsy as Miroku, but he’ll never admit to it.

Plus, the business venture was Sango’s idea. Miroku knows it’s at least half his fault she kicked them both out the door, with all his hovering—Inuyasha takes the other half of the blame with his restless moping.

As they approach the mountain’s base, the hilly rice paddies fade into the forest that skirts the base of both mountains. The path narrows, and tall trees rise to block out parts of the sun’s rays—but not the heat. If anything, they’re trapping the warm, heavy air closer to the ground. It’s been a long time since they’ve traveled, and while Inuyasha is likely capable of continuing endlessly at triple their current pace, Miroku’s feet haven’t been this abused in some time.

“We should stop for lunch soon,” Miroku muses, and Inuyasha only grunts in agreement. Sure, Inuyasha could probably keep going, but he’s long since learned that his human companions aren’t quite as sturdy as he is.

Once they’ve found a shady spot near the path with rocks to perch on, Miroku sets aside his shakujou and pack, and removes the wide-brimmed hat. Swiping at the sweat on his forehead, he marvels at how little the heat seems to bother Inuyasha, who—out of habit—is scouting the area for potential trouble before settling down, almost petulantly, when he finds nothing.

Sifting through the pack, Miroku produces a small bamboo box lined with the onigiri Sango had made for them that morning. Plucking one out for himself, he offers the box to Inuyasha, and they eat in relative silence.

Perhaps it truly has been too long since they last traveled—Miroku kind of misses this, the change in scenery. It’s calming his nerves in a way he hadn’t expected; perhaps this is what Sango foresaw when she insisted he follow up on the rumors a traveler had brought through their village. Or, more likely, she just wanted the hovering and moping to _stop_.

Once lunch is finished, Miroku tasks Inuyasha with finding a stream to refill their water rations as he packs up and rubs at his sore feet. Perhaps he should have done a better job of patching his sandals before they left, he muses morosely.

It isn’t long before they’re back on the road, Miroku humming an old song that’s been stuck in his head, and Inuyasha flicking his ears in search for unexpected company. Dark clouds start encroaching on the edge of the sun’s rays.

Suddenly, Inuyasha holds out a hand, halting Miroku mid-verse. He glances at Inuyasha with a raised brow.

“Demon?”

Inuyasha shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. “Human, but…”

Miroku peers down the shaded path ahead, and sees a figure sitting by the road in the distance.

“But what?”

“ _Spiritual_. A holy person.” He keeps moving down the path, albeit more cautiously.

Ah, that would explain the slight scowl. Miroku scoffs in mock offense, purposely jingling the rings on his shakujou. “And what does that make me?”

Inuyasha grunts and smirks. “Spiritual, but definitely not holy.”

Miroku resists the urge to swat the back of Inuyasha’s head. “I’m a reformed man now, mind you.”

“And your wife’s pregnant, so…”

They’re close enough to the mysterious “spiritual holy person” now that Miroku doesn’t deign to offer a retort. The unmistakeable garb of a Buddhist monk is easy to see on the individual sitting at the base of a tree, and a shakujou much like Miroku’s rests against the same tree within arm’s reach—Inuyasha’s senses were dead on the mark. There’s also a mat spread out in front of the monk with an array of hand-painted sutras that Miroku doesn’t recognize.

“One copper per charm,” the monk says as they approach.

Miroku pauses to take a closer look at the spells written out on the papers, and notices Inuyasha stiffen as he bends down. He still doesn’t recognize the purpose of the messily-scrawled spells, and while he can _feel_ Inuyasha fidgeting next to him, it doesn’t look like they do anything. Possibly— _probably_ a scam.

“What do they do?” Miroku asks innocently.

“These seal demon powers,” the monk replies, and looks up from under his wide-brimmed hat with a bit of skepticism. He must have finally noticed Miroku’s attire and realized he was speaking with another monk. Casting a look at Miroku’s nervous companion, he smiles a mostly-toothless grin. “Only temporarily, but long enough to let you take care of the rest.”

A full-body shudder goes through Inuyasha, and Miroku resists the urge to reprimand him in front of the strange monk. He still isn’t convinced; he’s written incantations of his own that essentially do the same thing, and they look nothing like these. He’s about to pass on the offer, when the monk’s stomach growls loudly.

“I’ll take three,” Miroku replies kindly, pulling out a string of copper coins and placing the appropriate currency into the man’s offering bowl.

He hears a stifled groan of protest from his companion and chooses to ignore it.

“Thank you, kind sir,” the monk says, counting out three of the papers and offering them forward. Miroku tucks them into the folds of his kesa.

Once they’re out of earshot, Miroku says, “Yes, I know they’re fake.”

Eyeing him warily, Inuyasha asks, “You sure about that? Then why’d you buy them?”

“The man was hungry,” he replies simply.

“I’m surprised he’d go to the trouble of making… ‘ _useless_ ’ charms if he could do just as well begging,” Inuyasha says. He still seems a little skittish around Miroku, and Miroku finally figures out why.

He shrugs. “Perhaps he believes they actually do work.” Pulling one out and inspecting it closer, he waves it near Inuyasha, who jumps sideways a step to avoid contact. _Huh_. “Oh come now, it’s not like this is going to hurt you. Your demon powers are a little stronger than what these were intended for.”

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me with that,” Inuyasha snarls, hackles raised.

“Fine, fine. I’ll get rid of these once we’re a little further away.” Miroku moves to tuck it away, and the action seems to satisfy Inuyasha enough to whirl and stomp ahead. Eyeing it one more time, Miroku curiously reaches out and carefully places it against Inuyasha’s shoulder.

Nothing happens.

Inuyasha’s head whips around. “The fuck?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Miroku says, patting the sutra into place. “What’s got you so on edge, my friend?”

“That monk—gives me the creeps,” Inuyasha replies. “The sooner we get this rumor thing over with, the better.”

Miroku offers another pat and opens his mouth to offer a word of cheeky comfort, but the hair next to his hand suddenly starts darkening.

_What the—_

Inuyasha turns to say something else snappish, and Miroku’s mouth drops open—the dog ears at the top of his head have disappeared, and his fangs and claws retracted. It’s still afternoon, but there’s no mistake—Inuyasha has reverted to his human form.

_Well, damn._

“The fuck is wrong with you now?” Inuyasha asks, staring at Miroku’s gaping mouth.

Has Inuyasha not noticed? “Uh… um. Don’t get mad yet, but—”

Inuyasha finally looks down at his hands, and sees strands of black hair first, his lack of claws second, and he very quickly realizes that something’s amiss. “What the fuck— _Miroku!!_ What the fuck did you do to me?!”

Sheepishly, Miroku holds up his hands placatingly. “I can fix this, just—turn around and, uh—”

Inuyasha reaches behind his back, where Miroku was patting him, and realizes that there’s a paper charm stuck to the back of his shoulder. He starts scrabbling at it with his hands, but due to the awkward angle, he can’t quite reach it.

“Get it the fuck off of me!” he screeches.

“Sorry, sorry!” Miroku reaches over and peels the charm off of Inuyasha’s back with some trepidation—the writing is fading. “Got it! There, it’s off.”

Inuyasha stares at his hair, almost willing it to turn back to silver. After a few minutes of glowering, nothing happens. His glare snaps up to Miroku.

“You said those were fake,” he says accusingly.

“I really didn’t think they’d do anything, I swear,” Miroku says, still holding the offending charm in one of his hands as he holds them up in a continued attempt to placate. It doesn’t work.

“I’m going to fucking _kill_ you—”

“Let’s not be hasty, Inuyasha.” He backs up a step. “We can fix this; let’s just go back and talk to the monk—”

Inuyasha unsheathes Tessaiga menacingly, and even though it isn’t transformed, Miroku turns to run back to the strange monk. He’s always been a fast runner, and Inuyasha isn’t quite as quick as normal in his human form, so it gives him just enough of a head start to get back to the monk for a witness to his impending murder.

The sky chooses that moment to open up and make good on its promise of warm torrents of rain. The sutra is soaked by the time Miroku makes it back to the tree the monk was sitting under, only to find the mat abandoned. No sign anywhere of the monk, his weird charms, or the offering bowl. All of the writing on the charm in his hand has faded.

Inuyasha’s angry screams for Miroku’s head announce his arrival, and Miroku stuffs the blank paper back into his robes and turns to face the threat head on. They can’t keep this up forever, and maybe Inuyasha wouldn’t _actually_ kill him, right…? Maybe Tessaiga is too rusty to do damage?

“Look, Inuyasha—” He backs away from a swipe of the blade aiming to take his neck. Rainwater splashes into Miroku’s face at a surprising velocity. Rusty blade or not, and demon or not, there’s a lot of fury behind that swing, and it’ll still hurt, so he reassesses Tessaiga’s ability to do actual damage.

“Where the fuck is he?” Inuyasha snarls, black hair starting to stick to his forehead with the heavy rain.

“I don’t know—he’s probably just hiding from the rain,” Miroku says, a little too quickly. He ducks under another swing and parries the next with his shakujou, the impact ringing loudly in his ears and rattling his arm from wrist to elbow.

“Not good enough!”

“If you kill me, how do you expect me to find him?” Miroku reasons.

Inuyasha pauses at that, and then snarls, raising his blade again. “I don’t think I need you to find him, I can go find him myself!”

“How do you know he’ll even help you? He’s the one who made the sutras, after all.”

Miroku closes his eyes in a grimace, waiting for his impending death. The swing doesn’t come this time, but the tip of the rusted blade sinks into the muddy path with a pathetic, wet-sounding _thump_. “ _Fuck_!”

He cracks one eye open, feeling a little bad at the sheer frustration slumping Inuyasha’s shoulders. “Look—he said this is only temporary, right? So this should only be a short-term thing. Who knows, you might be back to normal before the rain stops falling.”

Inuyasha’s eyes snap towards his in a glare, but he doesn’t make another move to take off Miroku’s head, so he figures they’re going in the right direction here.

“Plus, we know these folks tend to be superstitious. Who knows, this could work out in our favor at the village—they may be less wary of us if we’re both human.”

Inuyasha still doesn’t look happy, but he concedes the point by flicking the mud and rain from the blade before sliding it back into its sheath. Miroku struggles to keep his sigh of relief invisible.

“I’m still fuckin’ pissed at you,” Inuyasha says as they start back out on the path.

“Noted,” Miroku replies. “Sorry,” he adds, after a beat.

“ _Noted_ ,” Inuyasha quips back sourly.

The rain lets up as they make their way up the mountain, but Inuyasha’s mood doesn’t clear with the dark clouds. Miroku doesn’t exactly blame him—this is his most vulnerable state, out in broad daylight, and they’re about to walk into a potentially dangerous situation. But the monk _did_ say that this was a temporary thing, and even if they don’t have success by the time things are about to get dangerous, Miroku can probably figure something out if he has a chance to sit and concentrate. He _is_ a monk, after all—a legitimate one.

They reach the village as the sun sets, and Miroku seeks out the village leader for information, Inuyasha sulking behind him. Nobody seems to be bothered by their presence, which is almost a welcome relief to the normal suspicious, side-eyed glares Inuyasha’s appearance normally attracts. Small mercies.

Once it’s clear that they’re there to help the village with their… _pest_ problem, they’re quickly offered a meal and a room to stay for the night, and then they’re quoted a very generous fee for their efforts.

Inuyasha’s morose stargazing is interrupted when he kicks Miroku before he tries to barter an increase on the already-generous ante.

The villagers have complained of a recent influx of salt thefts. With a couple mentions of bizarre behavior from local wildlife, sightings of short, one-legged human-like creatures, and a couple of minor altercations with the things, it doesn’t take long for Miroku to realize what they’re likely going to have to handle.

_Great_.

“What are we dealing with?” Inuyasha asks, once they’re left alone in their lodgings for the night.

“Sansei, most likely,” Miroku replies. “More than one.”

Sansei aren’t particularly dangerous on principle, but he’s had a few nasty encounters with them in the past. Even with Inuyasha’s human state, they should be able to handle this easily enough, if they can make this place no longer appealing to the nasty things.

“There’s a river not far from here,” Inuyasha notes. “Betcha there’s been an influx of frogs there recently.”

Miroku wants to be surprised that Inuyasha is familiar with sansei, but he supposes it’s expected; Inuyasha may act like a teenager, but he’s much older than he appears.

“We should go check it out in the morning,” Miroku says with a deliberate yawn. They’d traveled all day, and it’ll be easier to get a jump on their work if they have a good night’s rest.

Inuyasha glares at him from across the room, and it takes Miroku a minute to realize why (other than the obvious whole thing with the human-making charm, of course). Inuyasha doesn’t normally sleep when he’s human. Well, this will make things complicated.

“I know you’re not used to it in your… _state_ , but you should at least _try_ get some rest,” Miroku says carefully as he preps his own bedding for the night. “If you’re not back to your normal self by sunrise, you’re going to be surprised at how much more tired you are.”

Inuyasha looks like he’s strongly resisting the urge to flip him off. “You better damn well hope this is temporary.” His arms are wrapped around one of his knees, and the subtle tightened grip give away his discomfort. He makes no move to set up his own futon.

Miroku sighs. If Inuyasha isn’t on his game in the morning, they’re both going to be miserable. “You aren’t planning to sleep?”

If glares could kill, Miroku would’ve been dead hours ago.

“If it makes you feel better, we could take turns watching. I’d take first watch,” Miroku offers.

With serious hesitation—as if Inuyasha may actually be considering the offer—he finally, quietly admits, “I don’t think I could sleep like this, even if I wanted to.”

It’s a bit of a sad admission, even after the amount of trust they’d built up between their small group, that Inuyasha still felt that he had to be on his guard while vulnerable. Perhaps if Kagome ever returns—

He has to quash that sentiment, otherwise he might say something that will dampen the mood even further than it already is.

“Let’s hope this passes overnight, then,” Miroku says. “If you don’t mind, though, _I_ am going to get some sleep.”

“Be my guest,” Inuyasha snorts.

Despite the guilt for putting Inuyasha in the state he’s in, Miroku is out the second his head is down. Chalk it up to a long day of walking in sticky heat.

It feels like almost no time has passed when Inuyasha’s suddenly shaking his shoulder, growling, “Wake up, monk.”

Groggy and disoriented in the dark, it takes a minute or so for Miroku to blink himself fully awake. The nearly-full moon is shining brightly through the window of the unfamiliar room, Sango isn’t by his side, and Inuyasha—well, he’s _there_ , and it looks like his hair is black. _Still_ black, Miroku amends sheepishly, as his brain finally starts to re-engage.

A scream and several loud crashes from outside drag him the rest of the way to full awareness, and he’s on his feet with his shakujou gripped in his hands before his consciousness even registers the motion.

“What’s happening?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Inuyasha is peering out the window, still trying to assess the situation. “I don’t know yet, but there’s a commotion two houses down.”

Exchanging looks without exchanging words, Miroku and Inuyasha nod in mutual understanding—they’re going to go investigate. Inuyasha impatiently taps his bare foot and continues to keep watch out the window while Miroku pulls on his sandals.

By the time they make it outside, there are a number of other villagers peeking out of their homes. The village leader appears behind Inuyasha and Miroku with a torch in hand, still in his sleeping robes. As they approach the source of the commotion, another crash is the only warning they have before a small, screeching gnome-looking thing speedily hops out and scampers off in the dark, tailed closely—

—Miroku’s almost regretting not drinking any sake with dinner, because it would’ve been a convenient explanation for what he’s seeing. He could’ve sworn the creature—most undoubtedly a sansei—was being tailed by a bear. His suspicions are confirmed as chaos breaks loose; other villagers take note and start screaming and slamming doors. The torchlight behind them vanishes; apparently the village leader did the same.

Without thinking, Inuyasha starts swearing up a storm and turns to rush off after the bear and its bizarre companion, until he seems to think better of it, likely realizing that he won’t be able to keep up in his current form. Instead, he turns to Miroku, and glances _past_ him towards the house the two odd creatures exited. Miroku slowly turns to take in the absolutely wrecked doorway and swallows; it’s a little too quiet inside now.

It’s difficult to see by moonlight alone, but Miroku quickly takes in the telltale dark, shiny patches splashed just inside the threshold of the house. There’s a trail of fine white crystals that leads from inside the building and tapers off near the woods where the sansei disappeared.

It seems that Inuyasha is on the same page—they both cautiously move to the shattered doorframe and peer inside the dark room. They don’t even need Inuyasha’s overpowered senses to smell the overwhelming stench of blood and gore. Miroku reels back, covering his nose with the sleeve of his robe; they’ve seen enough to know that there isn’t anyone in there to save. Inuyasha doesn’t seem to be as bothered by the stench—this is probably tame compared to what he can normally detect—so he hesitantly steps inside to investigate.

Miroku keeps an eye out for any other unscrupulous activity, and notices as villagers start to peek back outside, murmuring and stirring the rumor mills into a frenzy.

When Inuyasha emerges, frown creasing his forehead, he shakes his head at the unspoken question from Miroku’s raised eyebrows. So nobody survived. This is no longer simply a ‘pest’ problem. The nearby sansei are getting greedy, and with that greed is coming a viciousness. This will have to be handled immediately.

Inuyasha looks past Miroku just as he notices the light coming back up behind him, and he turns to face the village leader with a grim expression.

“Wh—what is it? What happened?” the leader asks.

“How many villagers have died so far?” Miroku asks coolly.

“Died? What are you—” The leader looks past Miroku’s shoulder to where Inuyasha is standing, and doesn’t seem to get the answer he’s hoping for. His eyes widen in horror. “You surely don’t mean—”

“It appears you have a local sansei infestation,” Miroku continues. “And they’re getting violent. You should all stay indoors tonight.” He motions to the small gathering crowd to encourage them to go back inside their homes. Turning back to the leader, he offers, “I can perform burial rites for the couple in the morning, if you can prep the bodies. Should you desire it.”

The leader’s face bleaches of all color, emphasized by the bright cool moonlight. He seems to gather himself before he nods his acquiescence.

While the sansei won’t be too troublesome on their own, the bear is far more concerning. Even if they’re able to break the sansei’s control over the bear (or any other wild creatures it may rally on its path), it’s still a _bear_. Perhaps they can scare it off.

With a knowing look towards Inuyasha, they trade nods in a wordless agreement. Miroku jogs toward the salt trail, keeping a pace he thinks a human Inuyasha can keep up with. (Odd how the roles have reversed, he thinks offhandedly.)

The trail winds through the thick underbrush of the nearby woods, and it’s definitely harder to track in the dark and without Inuyasha’s heightened senses, but they manage to stay on track—if only because the bear’s trail is incredibly obvious to follow. Once they’re some ways away from the village, the trail leads them towards the river—not terribly surprising, since that’s likely the best place for the sansei to find their favorite meal of frogs and crabs.

They slow their pace when they can hear the rush of water from the river, and the trail they’re following opens up to a bush-lined river bank. There are a few clearings that dip down by the rushing water, and there’s a warm glow with a column of rising embers coming from one of the closest clearings.

“I _told_ you not to bring Kenta with you!” one of them says angrily.

Miroku holds up a hand to halt Inuyasha’s progress, and they both stay low in the tree line, creeping towards the campfire and being careful to stay in the shadows. They duck behind two trees nearest the clearing.

“But we needed salt, and they had sharp pointy things!” a second voice protests.

Peering around his tree, Miroku clamps down on the urge to vocalize his surprise at what he’s seeing. Sure, he’s probably seen stranger sights on the journey to find and defeat Naraku, but this is still incredibly odd. Plus, he’s never seen a sansei in person before.

There are two small human-like creatures crouched by the fire, each wielding skewer of frogs. If the firelight and intense moonlight aren’t entirely throwing his vision off kilter, he thinks they only have one thick leg apiece. One of them is salting his frogs from a small sack filled with the substance, likely his burgled prize. And across the fire from the two sansei, there sits a bear, serenely minding its own business.

_They’ve named the bear_ , Miroku suddenly realizes, and struggles not to laugh out loud.

“Well since you killed them, they might come after us now,” the first one grouses. “I don’t think it’s nice to make Kenta keep killing humans—he might get used to it, and we need them for more salt.”

“We can just find another place that has more salt?” the second one suggests.

“If you keep thinking like that, we’ll eventually run out of salt sources. I don’t know how to make salt, and I already know you’re too dumb to know too.”

The second one glares at his companion. “Who’re you calling dumb?”

Miroku’s staff slips in the loose dirt at his feet, jingling the rings slightly. He and Inuyasha lock wide-eyed looks, and Miroku fervently hopes that they hadn’t heard. As they both peer back towards the fire, the sansei aren’t looking in their direction—Miroku almost sighs quietly in relief, until he realizes they’re looking at the bear… and the bear is looking towards _them_.

“What’s wrong, Kenta?” one of the sansei asks.

The bear stands on its hind legs, rising to its full, daunting height, and growls lowly. Inuyasha and Miroku both hide behind their respective trees before the sansei turn to look, losing sight of the fire, but hoping they’ve hidden themselves before they’re actually spotted. Holding his breath, Miroku waits for any sign that they’ve been detected, but when they don’t hear anything after a moment, he glances back at Inuyasha before he cautiously peers back around the trunk of the tree.

The bear and sansei are gone.

Before he can turn to warn Inuyasha, the tree trunk explodes next to his head. It may have been a year since his last serious fight, but the instinct is still there—he dives backwards and manages to shield his face from debris. Inuyasha is also on his feet, sword drawn, as they turn to face the bear that’s towering over them where Miroku’s tree once stood. The two sansei sit on the bear’s shoulders, glowering down at them.

“I told you they were going to come after us at some point!” one of the sansei says accusingly, not taking his eyes off the humans in front of him.

“We should let Kenta have them,” the other one says. “Would you like that, Kenta?”

The bear huffs.

“Now look, we don’t want any trouble,” Miroku says, hands out placatingly. “All we want for you is to leave the village alone.”

The sansei with the salt bag snorts. “And leave a precious salt store behind?”

“Your bear killed someone tonight.”

“So?” The more reasonable-sounding sansei glares at his companion at the response. “They shouldn’t have fought.”

“You’re not leaving us much of a choice,” Miroku says, holding his staff out defensively.

The sansei smirks. “You’re both humans, and we have a _bear_.”

Miroku pulls out one of the monk’s sutras and holds it up between two fingers. He can feel Inuyasha’s glower, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the sansei. “Last chance.”

“Kenta.” It’s the only warning they get—for a beast so large, the bear is _quick_. Miroku reaches for the prayer beads on his wrist out of habit, only to grasp onto thin air—well, isn’t this an odd turn of events, not having the kazaana in battle—and the hesitation costs him. He barely has time to deflect the bear’s swiping paw with the shakujou, but the follow-up swipe with the other paw sends him flying. His back collides with something solid, sending stars sparking across his vision and knocking the wind out of him.

“Miroku!”

Inuyasha jumps after the bear, sword swinging. Before Miroku can protest—the blade is rusty and won’t do anything against a bear that size—Inuyasha takes a hard hit from the bear’s paw that spins him face-first into a tree trunk. There are claw marks gouged in his shoulders leaking red, and he groans as he pulls himself back to his feet, nose bloodied.

This isn’t going well at all. Miroku sees the bear prepare to strike at Inuyasha again while he’s stunned, and his feet move without much thought behind it, at least nothing other than realizing Inuyasha’s currently human and it’s technically _his_ fault, and he doesn’t want to see undue harm come to his friend because of his own underestimation. He dives to cover Inuyasha’s exposed stance. The blow glances against his back, leaving it feeling bruised and _burning_ , and shoves him towards Inuyasha. Using the momentum, he wraps his arms around Inuyasha’s middle and rolls both of them away into underbrush for temporary cover.

Knowing he doesn’t have much time, Miroku forces himself to a pained crouch and concentrates, surrounding them with a quick barrier. He grimaces as the bear strikes it, feeling it waver, but he tries to keep his concentration as he reaches for the last sutra, having lost the other one earlier in the fight. When the bear rears back to swing at the barrier again, he quickly drops the barrier, redirects the spiritual power into the sutra to give it a little more potency, and flings it at the sansei with the stolen salt sack.

At least he hasn’t lost his aim in the last year. The sutra strikes the sansei in the chest, and it squawks as it realizes what hit him. As the sutra begins to do its work, the sansei shrieks as its aura is violently pulled into the now-blazing writing on the paper. He disappears with a _pop_ , the now-blank paper fluttering to the ground, and the bear stops mid-swing, suddenly confused, and starts trying to fling the other sansei off its shoulder.

The second sansei screeches in horror, trying to get the bear back under its control, but the bear bucks him off too quickly and drops to all fours, running off into the opposite direction. Sprawled on the ground, the other sansei glowers up at Miroku.

“You killed him!” he hisses.

Miroku pulls out one of his own sutras—definitely not as potent as the one that the other monk gave him, but it might be enough as a deterrent—and holds it up threateningly.

“You can still leave,” he offers, surprised at how rough his own voice sounds to his ears.

The sansei grits its sharp, uneven teeth irritably, and seems to consider fighting, but he eyes the sutra closely and instead throws up his hands in surrender.

“He was an idiot anyway,” he relents. “I’ll move along.”

Miroku keeps his gaze locked on him, lowering the sutra. “See to it that you don’t engage in killing more people, or we’ll meet again.”

“Sure, sure,” the sansei replies. He turns and hops away.

Once the sansei has disappeared into the woods, Miroku listens for signs of his return—and the bear—for several minutes, before he finally releases a relieved breath and dropping from a crouch to a full sit.

Inuyasha is still sprawled on his side next to him, so he rolls his companion onto his back. His eyes are still closed, and blood still trickles from his nose and oozes from the nasty-looking slashes on his shoulder. “Inuyasha?” He carefully shakes the uninjured shoulder.

Grimacing, Inuyasha’s eyes slowly open. “The fuck hit me,” he moans, reaching for his nose with his bad arm, hissing when he realizes that _that_ hurts even more. “ _Ffffuuuck._ ”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Miroku says lightly. “They’re gone.”

Inuyasha seems to remember that they were fighting before he’d been knocked out, and sits up quickly, holding his bleeding shoulder. Peeling his hand off the gouges, he glares at the red coating his palm. “The fuck happened?”

“One of the monk’s sutras—got rid of the sansei controlling the bear,” Miroku replies, blinking stars out of his vision. “Should’ve seen it, he went _pop_.” He imitates the popping sound with his lips, and grins. “Bear ran off, and other sansei thought better of it. He ran too.”

“You okay?” Inuyasha asks, suddenly looking at him oddly.

Miroku thinks he’s seeing things, because Inuyasha’s eyes are looking a little gold in the dim light. Then he realizes that it’s nearing dawn.

“We should get back to the village,” he says, moving to rise to his feet. His vision goes white with a sudden stabbing pain in his back, and he comes back to Inuyasha hovering over him anxiously. Yeah, eyes are definitely looking more gold. The heck?

It takes him a moment to realize he’s flat on his back, and it _hurts_. He groans.

“You with me now? Where are you hurt?” Inuyasha asks him.

“Back,” is all he can manage to reply.

Inuyasha carefully rolls him to his side, and grunts when he sees the damage. “Yeah, I think he got you, too. Shit. Can you stand?”

Miroku gauges his overall capacity, and tenses muscles, only to wince as it tugs at the burning fire in his back. “I don’t think so,” he says apologetically. “Give me a minute.”

Inuyasha carefully places a hand against his back, and he gasps as it stings. “You’re bleeding pretty badly. I think we need to get help back to the village.”

“Can _you_ stand?” Miroku challenges.

“Yeah, I can,” Inuyasha replies, and carefully gets to his feet, only wobbling slightly. “Better’n you, at any rate.”

Inuyasha leans his uninjured shoulder down by Miroku, and pulls his arm across his shoulders. Before Miroku can protest, Inuyasha grunts and pulls them both upright, sending Miroku’s world spinning.

“Sorry. We’re gonna have to go slowly,” Inuyasha replies, voice shaking with strain. He takes a hesitant step forward, but when his footing holds, he takes another. “Hang in there, monk.”

Miroku tries to say something witty, but the words stick in his dry throat. He chuckles darkly, coughs, and groans instead. He tries to focus on keeping some of his weight on his own feet, since he knows Inuyasha is also injured.

True to his word, Inuyasha moves slowly—both because he’s also tired and injured, but also because, Miroku suspects, he’s trying not to jostle Miroku too much. As they get closer to the village, Miroku fuzzily realizes that Inuyasha isn’t shaking quite so badly. He zones out for a bit, and kind of stares off into the trees as the sun’s rays peek over the side of the mountain, warm against his face. It’s so bright that it makes even Inuyasha’s dark hair shine brightly.

“Still with me?” Inuyasha asks, suddenly. “We’re almost there.”

Blinking his vision back into focus, Miroku peers ahead and sees houses in the distance. He doesn’t manage more than a grunt in reply. There’s a thought that he might be in trouble in the back ofhis mind, but it’s distant as well. He feels Inuyasha’s grip tighten on his arm, nails surprisingly sharp against his skin.

There are villagers out and about as they approach, and Inuyasha calls out for help—probably a good idea, Miroku thinks he may be about two seconds away from passing out—only for his call to be returned with sharp cries and screams.

“Demon! A demon’s got the monk!”

It takes Miroku far too long to put all the pieces together—gold eyes, bright hair, claws—and he frowns and swivels his head to peer up at Inuyasha’s stricken face.

_Well, I’ll be damned_. The sutra’s spell apparently had worn off; Inuyasha’s hair is back to its usual silver, and his dog ears and claws have returned.

“Told you it was temporary,” Miroku mumbles.

Inuyasha seems to ignore him in the face of suddenly angry villagers approaching with sharp, pointy farm tools.

“You damn idiots, I was with the monk earlier!” Inuyasha is growling at the growing crowd. “The monk’s hurt—he needs help, and— _back off, bucko!_ ” He bats one of the pitchforks away with his free hand, the sudden movement sending sparks through Miroku’s blurring vision. “Ungrateful lot of jerks!”

The village leader approaches cautiously, a suspicious frown creasing his forehead. Something seems to click, and he turns around, waving the crowd away. They reluctantly obey, and he turns back to Inuyasha.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says quietly. “Hanyou?”

Inuyasha growls lowly in warning, and Miroku tightens his grip on Inuyasha’s shoulders as best he can manage to quiet him.

“Sorry to stir up trouble, but could we bother you for some assistance?” Miroku manages to ask, trying a placating smile—though he can tell it’s probably coming across as more a grimace. His voice sounds bad, even to him, but he pushes forward. “The sansei won’t be bothering you anymore, at any rate.”

“Come with me,” the leader says, and turns to lead them back towards his home.

Inuyasha glances down at Miroku for assurance, so he nods.

Once settled in the village leader’s spare room again, the leader has bandages, herbs, and hot water brought in for them.

“You probably shouldn’t stay long,” he cautions. “After… after our neighbors were killed, they’re not super keen on having you around.” He motions to Inuyasha.

Inuyasha snorts, but thankfully doesn’t respond as he works Miroku’s robes off his shoulders to survey the damage to his back. Gauging by Inuyasha’s silence (and how much pain he’s in), it must look pretty bad. The cool air stings against the raw wounds, and Miroku sees the ground start to roll under him—

A hand grabs his shoulders and steadies him. “Hey, stay awake, monk,” Inuyasha commands gruffly. “This is gonna hurt, though. Sorry.”

There’s the sound of water swirling, and a damp, warm cloth presses against his back. As promised, it sends sharp pain straight through him, and he sucks in a breath. Muttering apologies, Inuyasha does his best to carefully clean debris off the wound while keeping Miroku upright. When Miroku nearly passes out from the process, Inuyasha finally relents, and helps move him down onto his stomach as he presses strong-smelling herbs against the stinging furrows in his back.

After that, the world goes grey for a while. He thinks he feels Inuyasha cleaning off the herbs after some time, and he thinks he hears some low-voiced arguing, but his mind doesn’t really latch onto anything in particular. At some point, he feels Inuyasha lever him upright, hands everywhere, and he half-heartedly jokes about being a married man—

Inuyasha doesn’t laugh, and it occurs to him that maybe he hadn’t actually said it aloud. His head feels like it’s stuffed with leaded cotton and everything’s spinning.

“Hey, hey—Miroku,” Inuyasha says, suddenly. It takes a minute of blinking the world back into focus, and he sees Inuyasha looking directly into his eyes, expression serious. His hands on Miroku’s now-clothed shoulders are all that’s keeping him upright. “With me yet?”

Miroku nods cautiously, swallowing with a wince. “Y-Yeah.”

“Sorry to do this to you, but the villagers are gettin’ antsy. We gotta leave.” Inuyasha turns around and starts to maneuver Miroku onto his back, hooking his arms under Miroku’s knees. “Hang on tight.”

“Told you,” Miroku mutters, thinking back to their conversation the day before.

“What?”

"Should’ve told them you were my familiar.”

Inuyasha snorts. “Fuck you, asshole.” There isn’t any heat behind it, though, and Miroku grins against Inuyasha’s hair, trying to remember to hang on.

Miroku remembers the leader’s presence from earlier, and finally notices that he’s not there. “Did you get the payment?”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha replies, irritably. “Had to bully him a little though.”

“Good,” Miroku murmurs, feeling himself drift again.

The world turns on its axis once Inuyasha starts moving, and Miroku doesn’t remember much after that.

“What the _hell_ did you do to my husband?”

“I told you, we ran into some trouble—Sango, wait—it wasn’t my fault— _ow!_ ”

The tone is panicked, and his wife’s name said aloud pierces the fog in Miroku’s mind harshly, along with the fact that he’s being jostled pretty roughly. It takes him a minute to realize he’s still draped over Inuyasha’s shoulders, and as he opens his eyes, he can only see a bright white. Sucking in a deep breath, he gets a mouthful of hair—Inuyasha’s hair.

“Hold still so I can check on him!”

“Not if you’re going to hit me!”

“Good grief, Inuyasha— _sit!_ ”

Miroku _feels_ the full-body flinch shudder through Inuyasha’s back, and he almost laughs out loud. Instead, he blinks away his blurry vision and cranes his head around Inuyasha’s neck to get a glimpse of his wife, who currently looks both furious and a little disappointed. _And beautiful._

“Damn,” Sango mutters. “Shame it still doesn’t work.”

Inuyasha growls. “I told you, it wasn’t my fault! If he hadn’t turned me into a _human_ , we wouldn’t have had to struggle against that stupid bear so much!”

Sango sighs, and suddenly locks eyes with Miroku. Relief floods her expression, and her shoulders sag just a little as she lowers the Hiraikotsu. “Miroku-sama, you’re awake!”

Miroku manages a smile—it’s probably a little sheepish-looking, but what can you do when you come back to your wife all torn up. “Hey,” he says roughly. Yeah, voice still not sounding great.

“Finally! Now you can talk some sense into your woman,” Inuyasha snaps, though he also sounds a bit more relieved to realize that Miroku hadn’t died on him. He finally stops moving. “You can tell her why this is actually _your_ fault, monk.”

What, so she can slap him instead? No _thank_ you. Instead, he forces out a pathetic-sounding moan, as pathetic as he can make it. It speaks to how badly he had been off earlier when Inuyasha doesn’t actually call him on his bluff, and instead carefully lowers him onto something soft and warm… and purring. _Kirara_. He wraps his arms around the demon cat’s neck and rests his head behind her ears.

Sango seems to have calmed down to the point where she isn’t going to attack Inuyasha anymore, and places a cool hand against Miroku’s forehead. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough,” Inuyasha grouses. “We should take him back to your place.”

Sango’s weight settles in behind him, and if he was less hurt-y, he might have said something to earn a good hard smack. Instead, he’s quiet, and just enjoys Sango’s steadying presence behind him. He manages a half-lidded glance in Inuyasha’s direction as he grimaces and rolls his shoulder—he might not have healed up entirely yet, either, and Miroku feels a little guilty all over again.

“We’ll talk once he’s settled, then.”

Miroku doesn’t remember Kirara taking off.

Sango’s quiet, soft laugh brings him back to awareness again, her hand carding gently through his loosened hair at the back of his scalp.

“So he bought weird sutras from a creepy monk that turned you into human, and then you two got taken out by a couple of salt thief gnomes and their pet bear,” she says, unable to hide the grin from her voice.

Inuyasha scoffs. “Told you, wasn’t my fault.”

“And you couldn’t stay back at the village since by the time you got back, you regained your hanyou form, and they weren’t so fond of you anymore?”

Miroku takes that opportunity to enter the conversation. “Should’ve told them, Inuyasha.”

“Fuck off,” Inuyasha growls. “I’m nobody’s goddamn familiar.”

Sango giggles, her hand stalling for a moment before she rubs her thumb gently against the nape of his neck. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

Miroku takes stock, and while his back still aches, he realizes he’s in much less pain than before. There’s the distinct astringent scent of herbs in the air, and he finally notices that he’s still stripped to his waist, laying on his side with his head pillowed on Sango’s lap. There are bandages wound tightly around his middle and shoulders. “Much better,” he says, grinning into her thigh. When he reaches to grab at her rear, though, he hisses when the movement pulls harshly at his back.

“Mhmm, how about you keep your hands to yourself,” Sango replies softly. “You’ve been out for a while, but you’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

“Glad to see you didn’t kill Inuyasha while I was out,” Miroku replies. “It really wasn’t his fault.”

“Told you so,” Inuyasha grouses, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Plus, he’s hurt too.”

Inuyasha snorts. “I healed up hours ago, dumbass.” To prove his point, he pulls his haori away from his shoulder to show the thin, pink lines that are the only sign remaining of his injury. “Besides, you shouldn’t have gotten in the way of that bear’s paw. I’m not as wimpy as you are.”

So he’d noticed how Miroku had gotten hurt. Oops.

Sango sighs. “Maybe next time you two need a chaperone. An adult,” she clarifies.

“Next time? You mean you’re not grounding us?” Miroku asks.

She jingles the pouch of coins they’d received by way of payment. “If you promise to more careful, and not turn Inuyasha into a human, I think I could spare you again,” she says coyly. “This could be lucrative after all.”

Inuyasha sighs irritably. “Fucking _great_. Now there’s two of you.”

Miroku grins again, pulling the hand with the pouch down to his lips, kissing the back of it. “I knew I liked you.”

Inuyasha makes a face, and gets up to leave. “Gross. I’m out.”

As they watch him exit their hut, Sango swats at Miroku’s arm half-heartedly. “Don’t you do this to me again,” she warns, softly. “I really was worried.”

Recalling the bits and pieces of the journey back, he suddenly realizes that she’d come after them before they were back to the village. “How did you know to come get us?” Miroku asks.

“Kirara seemed to realize something was wrong,” Sango replies. “She insisted we come find you—and I’m glad she did. I guess we can keep you if she’s treating you like part of the family now.”

A soft mew came from Miroku’s side, and Miroku finally notices Kirara’s presence and reaches out to rub under her small chin. “Thank you, Kirara.”

“I mean it, though. I know you felt bad about what happened with Inuyasha turning into a human, but please be more careful next time. I don’t want your child to grow up without a father.”

That’s a sobering thought in and of itself. “I promise. Next time I’ll make sure they know he’s my familiar.”

Sango laughs at that. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over _so_ well.”

“Better than him getting lynched by angry farmers with sharp tools,” Miroku reasons. “Plus, it’ll keep him from moping around as much.”

“Fair’s fair.” Sango begins running her fingers through Miroku’s hair again, and he feels himself getting drowsy. “Sleep, darling. We can pick on Inuyasha some more when you’re feeling better.”

Miroku hums in agreement, letting his eyelids droop and close. As much as Inuyasha had protested, it didn’t seem like he’d entirely hated the idea at its core. Miroku would have to ensure the weird sutras never made an appearance again, and they’d probably be fine. Perhaps they could make this venture work yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I rewatched all of Inuyasha (plus all of the movies) a few months back while quarantined, and fell in love all over again. ~~yashahime doesn't exist shhhhhhh~~  
>   
>  Anyway, hi. I haven't written for Inuyasha in almost 15 years. Like, before the manga ended. Before 'The Final Act' was a thing. Before the dinosaurs—yeah, yeah, hyperbole and all that, but point is I'm old, okay.  
>   
> This mess came out of a desire for post-canon fic featuring Miroku and Inuyasha getting into idiotic trouble while having a bro moment or three. I haven't found anything that fits this oddly specific desire, so I wrote something myself, for a change.  
>   
> If you happened to stop by and got this far, hope you enjoyed, lol idefk what this is anymore. Also please forgive any mistakes, I didn't really do as thorough a beta-reading job as I normally would since I've gotten lazy in my old age. Trying to get back in the habit of writing regularly, and I'm sure it shows, haha.  
>   
> Oh, and if you're curious about sansei, I got the info on them from [here](http://yokai.com/sansei/). Obviously some creative liberties applied.


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